


Freaky Friday

by Annaelle



Series: Malec Oneshots [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, What-If, and 2x12, body switching, identity hijinks, spoilers for 2x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 19:49:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11111631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: Niggle in my brain after watching 2x11 and watching the promo for 2x12 :DWhat-if scenario.





	Freaky Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up for my previous oneshot for 1x06. You don't have to read that one, just know that Magnus and Alec kissed after Magnus healed Luke, instead of their first kiss being at the wedding. 
> 
> I just had a thought after last night's episode and it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd written it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Love, Annaelle

**“My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways."  
—Mitch Albom**

“Alexander, please. _Please_ , believe me.”

Something in Alec’s gut churns uncomfortably at the pleading expression on Valentine’s face, unlike any other expression he’s ever seen on the man, and he does not know what to make of it. The story he’s presented is far from likely, sounding more like a poorly worked-out plotline in one of those movies—Freaky Thursday? Wednesday? He can’t quite recall—Magnus has made him watch, late at night, curled up together on the couch in the loft.

Still, there is enough sincerity in Valentine’s words and expression to make him doubt.

What if it _is_ true?

He cannot fathom a reason the Greater Demon would have helped Valentine escape Shadowhunter grasp, considering his views on demons and Downworlders, but that does not mean no reasons exist.

Alec is certainly not arrogant enough to believe himself capable of figuring out everyone’s motives.

Valentine is still looking at him with wide, sincere eyes, fingers grasping idly at Alec’s sleeve as he wordlessly pleads for Alec to believe him. “I’ll swear on the Soul Sword,” Valentine says desperately. “I’m not lying, I swear! I’m not Valentine Morgenstern! It’s Magnus Bane—Alec… _Please_.”

Alec can hear Jace and the Inquisitor scoff behind him, and before he can say anything, the Inquisitor speaks up impatiently. “Enough of this. He won’t give us anything useful. Gag him.”

In a sudden flurry of movement, Alec is shoved aside and Valentine is gagged, each of his arms grasped by one of the Inquisitor’s guards as they await further orders, and all Alec can think about is that Valentine has _never_ allowed these kinds of emotions to show before. There’s no arrogance, no conviction of the righteousness of his actions—all Alec can see is desperation and _fear_.

“Inquisitor,” he says softly, when she turns to leave, eyes never leaving Valentine’s. “What if he’s telling the truth? It would hardly be the first time Valentine’s done the unbelievable.”

The only response he gets is a derisive sneer, before she barks, “Don’t be foolish, Lightwood. He is trying to delay the inevitable, and I will not have it. Prepare him for execution.” The sharp breath that punches out of Valentine’s lungs and the way his entire body sags in desperation as he squeezes his eyes shut squeezes the air out of Alec’s own lungs.

Something _is_ wrong.

He recalls his phone call with Magnus earlier that morning with a sinking feeling, lips parted as he tries to find the words to say what he wants to. It had been one of the first times he had spent the night back at the Institute since the massacre, and he had felt the absence of Magnus’ arms around him more than he had anticipated.

He’d called Magnus as soon as he woke up,  and it had been the very first time Magnus had not picked up on the first ring, and the first time since they had shared their feelings that the other man had hung up before Alec could tell him he loved him.

“Wait,” he exclaims, stepping forward to pull Valentine’s gag down. “Magnus and I kept one secret. Something we never shared with anyone else—not my siblings, nor his friends. One thing that was ours entirely, because there we—”

“There were enough eyes on us already,” Valentine— _Magnus_ —whispers. “The first time we kissed at the loft, after—.”

“Lightwood, what is this idiocy? Everyone _saw_ you kiss the Downworlder at your wedding.” The Inquisitor stands at his shoulder, ready to push past him and continue the preparations for the execution—but Alec has heard more than enough.

“No, stop,” he pleads, bodily putting himself between Magnus and the Inquisitor. “He’s telling the truth. We kissed before the wedding. Well before. No one knows but me and him. He’s telling the truth.”

The Shadowhunters in the room stand frozen in disbelief, and Alec _aches_ when he realizes that even Jace is still doubting him. “This is impossible,” the Inquisitor finally says, though Alec is relieved to hear her voice crack with the tiniest smidgen of doubt—that is all he needs.

And all Magnus needs, apparently.

The other man—and it feels _so_ incredibly _weird_ to see his boyfriend’s familiar way of walking, of holding himself in _Valentine’s_ body—pushes past him and sneers, “Do not forget the secrets I have held for you, Imogen Herondale. I can name any number of them to prove who I am.”

Alec and the others watch with bated breath and genuine interest as the Inquisitor pales before she schools her expression into something approaching neutrality and nods brusquely. “Very well. How is a thing such as this possible?”

“More importantly,” Magnus interrupts. “Where the _hell_ did Valentine take my body, and what is he doing with it?” It is not possible, Alec knows, but he swears that he can see sparks of blue magic spark from Magnus’ fingertips, and his breath catches, even as Jace interrupts him.

“What? Magnus, isn’t it more important to just get you switched _back_?”

“You don’t _understand_ ,” Magnus glares, hands curling into fists as he speaks. “He has my body, which means he has my _magic_ , without any idea how to _control_ it.”

Everyone falls silent again, and Alec can almost _see_ the same horrified thought in all of their minds.

 _Fuck_.


End file.
